1977
by Kubla Khun
Summary: Is it better to have loved and lost then never to have loved at all? COMPLETE
1. Stolen Soul

...And he never said my name again.  
  
Pain lashed throughout my body while he took me. He, whom I had blindly trusted with his off hand smile, took me in many ways. As he drained my body with guttural snorts, blood rushing from my jugular through his veins, he decided to violate my near dead body, while he whispered in a blood drunk, low voice. "Want to live forever, Baby?" Euro pop trash techo chords wafted to my ears while he slit his wrist and held my gaping listless mouth to his life blood. As my body died, he ravished me. Fire flew through my arteries, burning my heart to a crisp. My cravings were instant. I craved carnage.

I lay still, letting him finish his pleasure and with a last inked flourish he signed his own death note. As he peaks I reach up and his moans are stopped by the gutting crack as I snap his head off. I did not plan this, no, a general deterioration of family, self esteem and an addiction to any available high lead me to a loser in an alley, which lead to my rape and his second death, but hay, I'm not complaining. The vampiric high was the best experienced yet.

The first thing I did was to kill Mother Janice, my history teacher for giving me an F on my term paper about Hitler's brilliance. You should have seen the look on her face. Panting like a dog, and clutching her beloved rosaire, praying and pleading. Christian school sucked so I hung her above the main alter for kicks. After my first night of debauchery, I spent my time in various gangs in London and Paris doing petty theft for a good bidder. Yes, I was young and naive, but I was ruthless and that's why I survived. Most vamps feed and hunt to stay alive and some, the wiser ones, hunted for pure pleasure. I was a quick study and I learned the valuable lessons of our kind, which very few take the time between bites to learn.

Rule one; avoid the Slayer at all costs. Yeah, I was good but not really willing to give up immortality and Bonnie lawlessness to be one more pile of dust on the Slayers list. Rule two, when fighting, speed and accuracy can count for more then brute strength and ferocity, and lastly, rule three, blood tastes better when there is more then fear behind it. Betrayal, anger and hatred all good flavours, confusion can be bitter but lust and even love or awe are so sweet they hurt my teeth, and I have a sweet tooth. As years went by, I did some research on my heritage. Potential bosses like background. I knew my sire was an idiot but as it turns out that along the line of others in his making, the blood started with a badass by the name of Angelus. To turn so quickly and to be as strong as I am compared to other wanna-be tough vamps, showed that the genes must have skipped a generation in my favour.

It had been five years since my changes and that fateful night with the idiot and I was tired already. I had fit fifty human years and twenty vampiric ones into my meagre five. I could do as much damage at night as during the day. Find me a hospital and give me some fireworks. Sick people and explosives equal living, running, screaming fireworks. Oh, what a night. My old boss Jhiftner, a Koss demon, wasn't too happy about that one. He said that I was calling too much attention to myself so I dissected him, took over his organisation and sent all his vamps into a trap then used my left over dynamite on his posh HQ. The staggering vamps were none too happy about that but after being whipped again, by me personally, I gave them a children's ward and let them go off until I needed them.

Men are so weak.

So here's where my dissatisfaction comes. I rob, mope, pillage, rape minds, slaughter artfully but even a really good gallery crashing with limbs strung from the ceiling gave me not the same old glow. Made from real artists too. They lived for their art, died on their art. It was through an old lackey that I heard of a massacre to rival mine. An entire cruise ship met port with no passengers. A once gleaming ship smeared bohemically from unimaginable deaths in blood. I kept a scrapbook of the pictures. I was consumed with a need to find out who could have such imagination. To this day the bodies were never found.

-This is my first serious fiction based on a dream I had about Spike. This story will contain my timid attempts at writing fight scenes and a love :cough: scene. I would appreciate any help with writing Spikes character, you can only use the words bloody hell, and bugger it all so many times. Comments are key!


	2. The dealings with a blond Devil

-Trust me it will get better continued...  
  
More research throughout London's underground, a few demon bar explosions and a frightening Watcher council theft and I found some answers. William the Bloody, called so for the fascinating use of rail road spikes, made in the year 1880 making him around a hundred, sired by the insane Drusilla. The vampire had quiet a rap sheet and I was intrigued.

I became consumed with a need to find him; he inspired my ballroom murders at Le Vert Mason Abre in the French courty side. It is so funny to see their faces when they realize that that roasted mutton was the Duke and his mistress. Can't blame me, his wife was better off and there are very wealthy head shrinks there now.

I was never one to sneak around so I packed up a bag and sent myself, in a crate to a warehouse rumored to be his. Now understand, I thought this William fellow was an old possibly Dracula type but after months of studying this guy and spending twelve hours being bumped around in a crate my optimism was beginning to drag.  
  
I could hear low mutterings and felt my crate being wheeled around. "Who would send a crate all the way from London? A crow bar is jammed into the top of the box. .

"Bloody Hell! Wha...? I hear this raspy voice halt as the lid cracks and I blink into the florescent fuzzy lighted silhouette.

"Who in the hell are you?" a British undead angrily questions. I did not see any one who could be my preconceived idea of the acclaimed William. I admit, I freaked; I had developed my young gun sense, vamped, growled, and leapt out of my container; feline flexed, I ferociously glared at anything near me.

"Well," said the Brit vamp, "What do we have here? It looks like a little pussycat.  
I studied this particular vampire. Peroxide blond hair frosted above an angelic rough angular face with gray blue eyes. He stood casually but the senses told me he was the stronger creature in the room, adorned in black jeans, army boots and safety pins. Peircings like an artistic pincushion dappled on his ears and eyebrow. He was smiling but his eyes were black as he asked the ten or so vampires around him.

"Anybody want some pussy?" At a nod of his spiked head the two bigger metal Goth punks raced at me.  
Still squatting I flipped both of them on their backs moaning in shocked pain. Surprise flitted across his face but it was still again quickly. "Feisty one aren't you. Was there something you wanted miss..." he trailed off. In one quick fluid motion I stood, shock his out stretched hand and said,

"I am Kit."

In a business like manner he asked, "So what brings you...Kit, to our humble apple in such a Cleopaterian way?"  
He led me into a side office off the main warehouse, which was sparsely furnished. The blond man cleared off a chair covered in records and cigarette butts and offered me the seat. As I sat he flopped down on a ratty couch.

"I have brought your boss a business proposition," I said.

"Oh and what is that?" He drawled. "I would rather speak to your boss, bud." Yes, this man drew me to him but he was starting to annoy me. I wanted William.

He looked at me with those dark eyes expectantly. He gestured at himself in an accidental way as my own surprise gleamed through my eyes. Mistake made and ignored by me I continued.

"Do you remember Jhifter? He did some work for you over the Iler demon mix up in the twenties." I knew that it may be a touchy subject but he killed everyone in the end anyway but while it was happening he had been ruthlessly hunted.

"Cheeky bugger, he did help me but he was always trying to grab my ass, blamed it on bad eyesight." "He's dead," I answered, "I had the same supposed eye sight problem. Thirty-Thirty vision." Ruefully he muttered, "figures..."

Realization came into his eyes. "So what is it you want exactly?"

Smiling, "A peace offering from me to you. I don't do lanky's but you look in the need of some.." Anger flashed in his eyes.

Casually I replied, "I will give you all of Jhifters men, ship them here the same way I came if needs be if you let me in on whatever it is you are doing here."

He eyed me suspiciously. "What? I sadly to say, am not doing anything lately and why do you want in so badly?" I knew it would come to this.

I reached in my bag and drew out two books. One with his scarce but bold massacres and the other book stained and splattered and containing the real photos form my own.

"I see within you a true artist and I, of late, have been uninspired." I crooned, "I wish to learn from you and for you to teach me." I looked up with shinning eyes from the dark stained page of my latest conquest to see him frowning and shoving my books back at me.

"Fine," he said with tense tones in his voice, "but no double crossing or sneaky business, nothing like that, alright?"

At a nod from me he continued in a cold voice. "Yes, most of my men are witless but when needed I call on the best." My eyebrow raised at this and I coo, "Who?"

A maniacal glint goes through his eye as he pauses and turns from the open door; the light haloing him and a wicked smile alights his lips as he replies,

"Me."

eheheh, I love this so much! It is sad. Comments welcome, worshiped and demanded!!!!!


	3. First impressions and bloody foot prints

My first impressions of William were bleak until after a week of loafing and sly hunting, exactly seven day after my arrival, we were all dragged out to a heavy metal bar down many twisted concrete steps under ground, a few blocks off of Times Square. The drinks went through eternally empty bodies, while the cigarette smoke swirled around pointless lives in a fog.  
  
Primal principles reigned here. Violence, sex and the common link of greed. It had not taken me long to adapt to his packs way of hunt. I fell into their formation and he let everyone disperse to their own pleasure but he held me back. Taken aside he posed a question,  
"In here now, is it best for pain, drink or hysteria?" I reply, "Huh?" With a blank look he hastily explains. "You wanted to learn, why not start with the basics? See here we have a two-exit cage, and the drunken wankers only know of one exit. Alone, I could take on a group twice this size but with a group of pent-up vamps and you this should be easy. A simple start, you plan, calculate, feed and leave. Easy as bloody fucking pie."  
He had aroused more then just my curiosity. Continuing he said, "The door can be blocked off, most here are too smashed to make it back up those stairs anyway. So that done we have this rowdy bunch to ourselves, and again I ask for pain, drink or hysteria?"  
"Why choose when I can have it all?" was my reply. And it was then I first saw my own destruction unbeknownst to me at the time. He smiled proudly and this held me for an eternity.  
  
I marvelled at his joy for the kill, with every death my own sense of hunger was heightened. Drunk on alcohol laced blood and my own destructive excitement we slunk down into the catacombs that are the New York sewers. The true-life veins of the city.  
I could still feel the heat from the crimson blood that covered all our bodies. Back in the warehouse and our separate wings we clean off. I could smell dawn coming and William came into our wings rundown bathroom. I had been scrubbing in excess over my stained legs and I cautiously watched him as he peeled off his blood drenched T-shirt.  
  
I had been strategic about not staring at him before but my eyes were drawn like laser beams now. I watched as he ran steaming tap water over his face and placed his hands on either side of the sink; head bowed. He raised his arm and washed all of the blood from his torso and shoulders, muscles moving in perfect liquid precision.  
Shrugging a teal grungy towel around his shoulders he turned to mild surprise at me presence. I sat, spread eagle, hand in mid scrub with a vicious expression on my face. Smirking in mock indignation, "Sorry, ladies first." And he left the echoing bathroom leaving a trail of bloody footprints.  
  
I finished quickly and went to my make shift birds nest of a bed. I wanted him. I knew now it was more than an inspiration aspect that I needed. I wanted carnal knowledge of his mind and body. I became a woman obsessed.  
  
Comments welcome! If his character seems wrong, possibly not tough enough or whatever it may be PLEASE point it out! 


	4. The green speedo

-----No one seems to want to read my story but, I will put it up anyway! One comment would be nice though.

Cont...

At first I hid behind my vicious glares and quick defensive sarcasm. I belittled him in front of his lakies much to his sometimes amusement, sometimes anger. I was in his pressence at every opportunity. He would wonder at my short temper whenever he was entertaining a tramp until one day, retelling the tale of him beating up some Billy punk he accidentally caught on.

An Asian whore with a green feather boa traced her tounge along his jaw and at more berating from me then normal he quiped, "Why do you bother? What do you care?

In my shock and slight humiliation I stopped picking and with a raised brow and develish grin he continue.

"Is our little pussy lonely? Does our pet need a pet?" I swept to my room in silent fury.

The following night I arrived in my room to find a lithe campus drunk in a neon green speedo hand cuffed to my be posts with a chershire cat smiling Spike in the corner.

"Does he please you? You have to love the pampered mommies boys, they never seem to stop screaming." He jousted.

Giving William a cool eye I looked flamingly at the young entoxicated lolling boy. Stalking over I straddle the now fully concious and slightly confused boy and began tracing his curves with my finger tips. I slyly glance over at William from atop my perch to see an odd faint look of yearning playing along his features.

As I go in for the kiss, the boys trashing lessoning, I reach for my hunting knife afixed to my tightened thigh and as I slit his throat in one quick swift motion I watched Williams lustful eyes. I unstraddled Mr. Speedo and toss my knife with a swish into the floor between his army booted feet.

"Don't bring me men, I find my own food and company." And I left him to take care of the mess.


	5. Bed head, the calm before the storm

-----Now the real fun begins! I should say now I own nothing, it belongs all to Mr. Joss Whedon. Aren't fan fictions fun?

...I went hunting every night. To ravage and pillage beautiful lost youths. I stole the sexiest most sensual black lace and leathers I could find. Every night I started a form of penitence before I went out. I would burn and re-burn each night my rosary onto my flesh. The pain was all I had to satisfy my thirst. It was the only release I had of the pain that consumed me through my obsession and my inability from pride to act upon my urges.

I had been in a demon bar for a few hours getting wasted when he showed up.

"Fancy meeting you here, pet." He smiled blankly.

"Go away," I unenthusiastically growled, "I hate you."

"Well then you will be glad to know I return those strong feelings so you can stop planning the wedding." He was mocking me and I had enough sense to slap him before I fell over in a drunken stupor.

I remember hearing the clink of glasses then being lifted. I had a sense of comfort I had never felt before, I feeling of strength and firm leather. I was lifted into my bed and I felt dull humiliation as I felt him exploring the burn mark on my chest and hearing snickers from him but I especially remember grabbing my mentor in a death grip, hearing a curse of "Bloody Hell!" and falling asleep.

When I awoke at dusk he was gone. I was tired of playing games and had a nasty hangover which put me in an unpleasant state of mind, in the mood for a fight so I got punked up and went out for a different type of hunt.

Torn panty hose assaulted my sculpted legs ending in doc martins. I had a black lace belt skirt and a worn motor cycle jacket. My lips were red but passers by would not know it was more then just a smear of lipstick

I walked the slick night streets with a fury. Puddles of mud reflected neon lights of nothingness back into nighthawk happy faces. An infamous cure for insomniacs was to move to New York. You aren't cured merely now in a concentration of people who never sleep.

In the deepest dark of night I stood huddled by a mailbox. I had fed and searched high and low. I was sure he had either left town or did not want to be found. My suspicions were confirmed when a heard a British voice purr, "Looking for someone Ms. Street Walker? Or do you wish me to leave you to your self inflicted miseries?"

A tendril of smoke curled up from the embering light at the end of a cigarette hanging from his mouth. He was outlined in night fog and moon light. I had found my prey.


	6. In the Dark of night

Oh what fun, only I and a friend have read this, it seems that everyone wants bangel or spuffy. Oh, well I thoroughly enjoyed writing this. Continued-

"I have been looking for you." This is me being straightforward now.

He steps into the light of the near by street lamp. "Now why would you be looking for me? Want me to join in on your nightly flesh burning fiesta?"

I tensed. "I know there is something going on, has been for weeks. Now tell me about your latest happy killing spree plans unless of course you are on a solo mission."

I opened my mouth to reply but he continued, "I knew it! I knew you were up to something fishy. You acting all..." He trailed off the silence then shook his head and hands in a frustrated way then got a hold of himself. Calmly he continued the accusing stare, frowning.

"So I have taught you all you need to know now is it? You've had your fun now you run off. You bitch! You are trying to take over my turf is it now?"

My amusement turned to confusion then anger at these last words. "You know William you are an idiot." I bit out.

"That isn't it ."

"Well see here Missy, Im not about to lose my set-up to some uppity young gun, sarcastic Bitch!"

I vamped, I know it was a mistake but he was baiting me, even if it was unintentual. Teeth bared, with a growl he lunged. The adrenaline was running high and I had never encountered someone so powerful.

Letting the animal instinct within take over, I shot out of his way and gave him a swift sharp shot at his turned back. Stumbling, fury renewed, he aimed hits at my torso then a brutal kick to my side.

Watching him squash pitiful humans no where near showed all of his true beautiful strength. I had blocked with my fore arms but the kick took me by suprize and I fell hard on the gritty, cold and wet concrete.

The street was deserted and we clashed. I do not know if he held back but I was using ever ounce of fight I had. Our battle creshendued when he had me in a head lock prepared to twist and I ran up a brick wall reversed the hold onto him and then stumbled.

I landed on top of him and it was an instant electric shock for me. I still had my nails digging small pricks in my strangle hold around his neck. Something inside me broke.

In an instant I de-vamped and slide hard down and smashed my lips onto his mouth.

William first experienced strangled shock, de-vamped and by the time the idea about what was going on had crept into his head a lethal voice above us crowed, "Well, how sweet. Am I enterupting something or do you two need a minute"

---If you do not know the lethal voice belongs to Nikki....eheheh, it gets better soon, I promise, more smoochies.


	7. Nikki

A shorter chapter but it leads up to what I love the most, the love scene so bare with me!

Jerking up, I saw standing strongly above us an afroed African American, leather clad woman.

A slayer.

I shot a quick glance at the look of surprise turned evil pleasure on Williams face before I leapt off and he threw his weight back then forwards to hop roughly onto his feet. The Slayer summer salted and aimed a forceful blow at William then backhanded me and knocked us both down.

William's head bounced like a rubber ball of the cement. I whipped back up in a firey anger unfelt before by me.

"You are dead!" I yelled as she aimed another kick at my chest.

I caught her foot and flipped her onto the ground hard while I kicked her repeatedly in the ribs. My mind went black and I did not remember being beaten or getting a clumsy stake in the stomach.

I had a flash in my mind of lying on the ground and watching William awake in anger, see my listless eyes and swoop out of view. The muffled and confused sounds of fighting reached my ears as my eyes closed dizzily.

I was floating, being quickly carried through the dank sewers and being lifted through the stairs to the warehouse. I was laid in Spikes bed with his black silk sheets I could feel them. I felt a raking pain as someone with clumsy gentle fingers cleaned and patched my wounds.

Just as he went to cover me up I breathed his name and locked him in another slumbering death grip, this one weaker with only a grunt of pain from one or both of us before falling unconscious. He did not try to leave this time.

I awoke. It was night and the moon glowed though out William's scruffy but delicately masculine sleeping quarters. His arms were interwined around mine and I fit there perfectly. All my existence had I never felt so perfect. In such harmony with another person.

I was still sore, but my wound was quickly healing. All around me was his scent and his tender, hard warm body eloping mine in an accidental sleep embrace.


	8. A little death

----hehe smoochies....----oh and thanks to Spookshow'sBaby...I do not know if this is your meaning of "fleshed out" but I will let you read the rest and I can do a re write....Yipee!!! Thank you for commenting!!!!

I grinned evilly. I only had part of what I wanted.

I awoke him in the tenderest way my primal instincts would allow. I gently removed his arms from around me and undid the zipper on his jeans. I hiked up my skirt and slid off my ripped panty hose.

He was lying on his back and I straddled him and watched the delightful array of emotions on his face as he awoke.

First he stirred with a small smile, then a sharp intake of breath and a blush as realization hit him. He opened his eyes and looked at me and I lowered myself onto him and tightened all in a matter of seconds. His surprise still evident as I slowly rocked, a proud look of ecstasy on my face.

I knew he could feel me but I was too much in the moment and as I arched my back he forcefully grabbed my shoulders and held my face inches from his. Completely knowing, and understanding flew from his icy, moist perfect gaze.

Pure lust and something even more powerful. In a moment of wrenching heat he consumed my mouth taking in everything I gave him and forcing it back ten fold.

I started to rock faster, clenching my finely tuned muscles more sparatically and hungrily, grinding deeper and harder into his up turned hips. His abdomen releasing and sliding in heavy breathes, with first shy and delicate gasps turned loud breaking moans and cries.

I was there with him completely, then. We came breathing, living, and moaning into each other's mouths, teeth against teeth, eyes locked. The dotting imprints of his fingertips on my back drawing blood from his force.

I rolled off him with a laugh.

"Bloody hell woman! You really know how to string a man through the ringer." William said after my awakening of him.

I replied, "Shut up." In a teasing, lethal voice while I leaned over and bit his lower lip. I glared but my mouth and insides smiled.

Raising a scared eyebrow he asked, "Have you been after me since the beginning? You little vixen you have!" He squawked at my delicious grin and wander lusted hands.

"And all this time I though you just wanted my territory or a piece of the action." Poker faced I breathed, "I got better, I got both."

William decided at this point realized he had had enough banter and knew that actions spoke louder then words. He wanted to show me what type of man he was. To prove that he was the best and he did, over and over and over. We feed off each other's energy.

I died a little more that night.


	9. Silence

----and the ending, I hope it is not too sad-----

He slept but I could gain no peace. I should have been able to, I should have stayed but something but something pulled at my near serenity. The Slayer. She felt like a threat to my black clad undead beautiful creature and myself. She felt like she needed to be hurt, a lot, with pain and agonizing death.

No one messes with Kit, I mused, I am the destroyer. One thought burnt all others at that moment lying beside a ruffled and resting Spike. Destroy.

Leaving him a note I quickly got dressed as the sun set again over New York. I flitted through the night, my senses scanned the crowds and I caught a whiff of her down a vacated subway entrance. I stalked down the graffiti station to find her waiting, stake drawn.

With a cocky flip of her head she huffed "I am going to enjoy this, I promise it won't hurt," she smiled, "Me."

I vamped, growled and lunged, but she was quick and back handed me and attempted a kill. I evaded by dropping beneath her arm and flipping her over, and she landed with a satisfying crunch.

Blows were blocked; punches flowed into kicks and flips. I was high off the adrenaline of blood, sex and violence.

I was not expecting that last kick. Before I could register her stake was protruding from my chest right beside my rosary. I had enough time to hear my name called in a crazed tone, to turn around and see Spike run towards me and try to catch me as I fell.

It was in that moment that I realized my greatest masterpiece.

My own death.

It was then that I became more then almost happy, to see that fire burning in his eyes. In truth I had never had a greater high, Had I ever asked for more? Did I ever ask for any of it?

I managed to say, "William" in a defeated whisper and see his devastated eyes before I exploded into millions of tiny bits of ash, which shimmered down as they fell to land on Spikes outstretched hands, and the crumbling concrete floor of that New York subway.

Before rising to face the Slayer he softly reached out to pick up the rosary from out of the whispering pile of dust, ignoring the pain.

He released to the primal side, fire burning in his eyes as he fought the Slyer onto a passing empty train. Lights flashed by and the vehicle shuddered and rumbled as if sensing the great battle waged between the two titans aboard.

Before the darkness and the tunnel, Spike had given up hope, but as soon the light fled he knew he had won.

The fear and defeat in her eyes before he snapped her neck gave him sad pleasure.

He ambled to the front of the train, pulled the emergency stop and halted only long enough to take the bitch's leather duster before hopping off the back of the train into the gritty dripping tunnel into darkness.

As he walked down the murky piers he re-read Kits letter. "Hey, I have something I have to do. You will be so proud of me and we will make the perfect team. The Slayer Killer's.

I know this will make things right. All I ever wanted was to destroy until I met you. Now all I want is you. Death is our art.

The world's a fucked up place so why can't we fuck it up a little more?

Aww, shit forget it, I am just almost happy. This will solve it, her death will make it right. I love you."

There were no tears in him. There rarely were. Arriving at a rotting pier over looking the skyline he sat and sobbed dry. Then, when calmed he stood as the sun rose, screamed a soul blackening sound and through Kit's rosary viciously out into the water. He did not look back as he left the docks, or even as he left New York. He never looked back.

And he never said my name again.

----I know I never mentioned Drusilla, but just pretend that they were fighting or that she does not exist. I know, I am evil, I killed Kit. She had to die though, make angst for Spike and room for Buff----- ps Comments give me happies....not herpies...lol


End file.
